Encounter
by tonraq
Summary: Now AU as of AWE. Jack wants revenge against his murderess. Elizabeth is not sure what she wants. A whatif scenario of the postdeath confrontation between Elizabeth and Jack: what would happen?
1. Chapter 1

Don't own, never will

* * *

At last, they had come to World's End: Elizabeth surveyed the grey, fog-choked hills before her with trepidation. Beside her, Will tightened his arm around her waist, and she leaned into the warmth of his body. None among them knew what lay ahead, save Barbossa, and he wasn't telling anything. Apparently he wasn't allowed to: none who came back from that shore could divulge the knowledge of the land of the dead. Barbossa could only guide, and give cryptic hints that drove Elizabeth nearly mad. Although, she conceded, it was more the smug tone with which he imparted his words that annoyed her, not the words themselves.

"Will," she whispered, "What do you think is out there?"

"I don't know," he replied, but it seemed from very far off. He had that...look in his eyes.

"Are you...you're remembering Davy Jones' ship, aren't you?" She asked, but she already knew the answer. He had only told her bits and pieces of what had transpired, but she got the feeling that he was omitting something very important. She didn't want to pry...she had a feeling that he would tell her in time. Besides, they each had their secrets.

"Yes." He said, in a voice full of memories. "It was...this shore cannot hold anything worse than what was on that ship." Nearby, a pirate knocked on the wooden railing, just in case, but Will was caught up in memories of despair and inhuman faces, and didn't notice. He was brought back to reality as Elizabeth rested her head against his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Will still hadn't told her about his father. He wasn't sure he wanted to, to tell the truth. Why, he wasn't sure. And this troubled him: he'd always told Elizabeth what was on his mind, and had never had qualms about sharing his secrets with her before. He felt her hug him closer, and tried to banish the uncertainty from his mind.

"I love you," he said, tightening his grip on his fiancée.

"I love you too, Will," she said, and pulled his head down to give him a kiss. Ever since they had made their escape from the Black Pearl, Will had been acting...differently. He was cautious around her, and sincere, and seemed to be trying to reassure her at every turn that his love was true and forever. Elizabeth held no illusions that Will had not seen her kiss Jack, and understood why he was being the way he was, and normally she would have done everything to put his fears to rest. But she held back, because to do that was to tell the truth. And she despised the truth.

The truth was, she had murdered Jack. Killed him herself, as surely as if she had held the gun to his head and pulled the trigger herself. And she did not regret it.

She knew that if Will and the crew knew this, not only would they despise her, they would come to despise Jack: he had not, after all, gone down with his ship of his own free will. He had not died a noble death, no matter how much she tried to make it seem so.

"_Arrum_." Will broke the kiss with Elizabeth at the rumble of Gibbs clearing his throat.

"It's time to go, Will, Miss Elizabeth," he said, and jerked his head towards the waiting longboat. Only three men were left to watch over the ship: the rest of the crew were making the foray into the realms of the dead.

They were quiet as they rowed to shore, and silent too as they moored the longboats. It was only when the crew were assembled and swords were loosened in their sheaths that Barbossa turned and addressed them all.

"Ye're all lucky men," he barked with his characteristic grin, "here's where the dead be walkin'!"

There were whispers among the men, but they silenced once Barbossa began to speak again. "Now I reckon ye're all wonderin' what strange beasties ye'll be encounterin' on our way ta where pirates like us take haven in the afterlife."

Elizabeth had been wondering about this herself. Would there be men like Barbossa's cursed crew had been? Skeletons with only the shreds of their faces clinging on to distinguish them from the others? Or inhuman..._things_. Images of the Kraken rose unbidden in her mind, and the horror she had felt welled up inside her.

" Well, it's yer lucky day... there are no beasties!"

There was a satisfied murmur, and Elizabeth felt her heart lighten, but Barbossa held his hand up and went on, "No beasts, mates, but those like unto yerselves. Allow me to elaborate. Boy!" he barked at Will, who scowled at the epithet, but nonetheless paid Barbossa his attention. "What were the men of Davy Jones' like?"

Will gave a very accurate and gruesome description. Elizabeth rather wished he hadn't.

"Buckos, those kinds of beasties are _nothin_' compared to what hell will do to a man!" Barbossa boomed in ferocious delight, "Here there be those who sold their souls...to Davy Jones, to the devil, to money, fame, power...and since their souls are forever in the keepin' o' the buyer, they cannot die! They are what wander this shore, and you had better pray they do not find us!"

"They can't _die_?" Elizabeth asked, rather skeptically, although she did look around

"Nay lass," Barbossa grinned, "but they can be chopped up or blown to little pieces. And it takes them decades to get themselves together again. But unless ye're all gourmet chefs, we don't have the strength nor the endurance to fight more than two to a man. So look sharp!"

Without further ado, Barbossa turned and began stumping his way up one of the dunes, on his way inland.


	2. Chapter 2

The crew followed Barbossa, apprehensively at first, and then as time wore on with no sign of the un-dead, more boldly.

Elizabeth had been walking hand-in-hand with Will, concentrating on keeping her footing in the treacherous sand and shale, and being thankful for wearing the breeches and loose shirt that she had bought in Tortuga instead of one of her voluminous dresses. Now, however, she loosed her hand from Will's and walked up to where Barbossa was leading the way.

"Where exactly are we heading to, Barbossa? And how do we know you're not just going to lead us to the mouth of hell and leave us there? I think it's time you told us some more about how we're going to ever find Jack in...in...this!" She gestured at the unchanging grey landscape around her.

Barbossa's eyes flicked over to share a glance with Will, before he answered smoothly, "I'm not in the business of betrayin' ye, Miss Tur- Elizabeth. Ye can rest assured about that. And ye'll know when we've reached Jack, because that's when we'll be on board the Black Pearl."

"The Black Pearl? But...that's a ship..."

"Ah yes, but the Pearl, she had a soul...why do you think Jack sold his own to get her resurrected from the depths? As surely as I am standing here before ye, Jack will be on the Pearl, down here." Barbossa tapped the side of his nose.

"I was going to say, we're heading inland. The Black Pearl, even if it's down here, would be on water, wouldn't you think?" They were heading towards a forest now. Granted, the trees were dead, bare, and standing starkly against the sky like so many clawed fingers, but Elizabeth could not even hear the ocean's waves any more.

"Let's just say that down here, things don't make so much sense," Barbossa said, almost to himself. "The Pearl should be on the other side of this forest," he raised his voice so the rest of the crew could hear, "but be wary: the forest is where the damned like to play."

The trees, though they had no leaves, nonetheless blocked out the strange grey light that lit the sky, dimming it down to a maze of shadows and pockets of gloom. Elizabeth stayed close to Will, who had his faithful hatchet in hand, and her hand in his other. She herself was armed, but held fears of tripping and impaling herself or shooting herself in the foot in careless nervousness. The tension was so thick it was nearly palatable: just beyond this forest was Jack, but lurking in every dark hollow were the monsters that imagination created.

The trees were thinning and Elizabeth thought she could make out the shape of something dark looming on the horizon –was it a ship?– when a twig snapped and there was a yelp. Jumping, Elizabeth spun, pistol drawn, to see a sheepish Pintel nursing his toe. "Oi tripped," he said, and giggled nervously. Elizabeth and Will shared a look of amused exasperation, and the crew relaxed visibly.

They had taken only three more steps when the first figure stepped out on to the trail in front of them, wielding mace and chain silently and with skill. Elizabeth bit back on a shriek, and looked around wildly: all around them, figures advanced: one riding a ghastly pale horse, one toting the biggest bow she had ever seen, all of them armed and with glowing red eyes. Without a word, they closed in, and the crew began to fight for their lives.

The most terrifying thing, thought Elizabeth, as she blew the head off of a man with a horned helmet, was that they made no noise at all. The pistol shots were deafening; the clash of swords jarring in the eerie quiet. And, true to Barbossa's word, the figures would not cease in their silent onslaught until completely dismembered. The trouble was, there were too many of them. Elizabeth's pistol clicked: she was out of shots. She had no sword; only a dagger Will had made specially for her, concealed in her belt.

"Elizabeth!" Will grabbed her wrist; he had heard the click as well. "Run!"

"Where to?" She retorted, hearing her voice slicing the silence as surely as any gunshot.

"Ahead! It's the Pearl!"

She didn't ask how he knew, only whispering a hurried "I love you," before dodging the club of a hunched figure and madly dashing out of the last of the trees, hoping against hope that none of the damned would follow her.


	3. Chapter 3

Will was right: it was the Pearl, high and dry and leaning crazily askew on the bottom of a dried-up lake. Elizabeth sprinted over the caked mud, wheezing, not looking back to see if she was pursued; she could hear the thuds of heavy feet behind her as clearly as if she was seeing it for herself. A rope was cast over the side: this she grabbed a hold of, swinging wildly before gaining footing on the side of the bulwark. Willing her tired arms to heave her exhausted body up the side of the Pearl, Elizabeth finally made it over the stern.

Looking down, she could see two red-eyed figures staring up at the rope. Hurriedly, she pulled it up and set it on the deck, making sure they could not follow. It was only then that she straightened and looked around, leaning tiredly on the ship's rail.

She could have sworn that the ship had been askew when she had scaled it, but here the deck was level as if it were moored in the Port Royal harbour. The Pearl looked surprisingly good for a vessel that had been crunched to bits, essentially, by a monstrous Kraken. In fact, it looked almost better than it had when she had voyaged on it for the last time. It was also completely empty.

Elizabeth was not sure what to do. She wanted to go back and help Will...she looked towards the forest.

There was no forest. She was afloat on a vast body of water: on the horizon she could see hills...or was it just clouds? The water was as leaden as the sky overhead, and the black-painted Pearl was an omen in seas locked by doldrums. Elizabeth sank to her knees. She was alone, Will was in danger, and she had no idea how to sail a ship by herself, damn it! Frustrated, she felt tears well up in her eyes, but willed them to go away. Crying would not help her situation at all. But...the thought of never seeing Will again...or of Will having been killed without her there...it was nearly unbearable. She buried her face in her hands, lost for what to do.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Swann," came a lilting, derisive voice that she knew all too well.

"Jack." She said tonelessly, without looking up. It figured that he would take this chance to appear, and she knew where he would be. A rattle of metal confirmed this knowledge.

"It's nice to see you too, love," Came Jack Sparrow's voice, "I'd come and give you a hug, I'm that glad to be graced with your presence, but I seem to be chained to the mast."

Elizabeth turned around, resting her back against the ship's side with her legs folded under her. Captain Jack Sparrow looked the same as he ever had. "Jack. You look good." She commented, for lack of anything else to say. There was too much...

"Elizabeth. You look...stunning," He mocked her, with one of his roguish smiles. "Be a love, and help us out? It's only fair, after all...you were the one who put me here." His tone became darker, more dangerous. Elizabeth held back a shiver.

"No. I did what I had to do, and nothing I do now can undo that."

"Well I'm not asking you to symbolically repent of your dastardly deeds or anything, I just wanted you to let me out because it chafes my wrist something awful." His voice was light once again. "Ah well, I don't need a key..." he slipped his hand through the cuff, and for a moment Elizabeth saw a broken lamp, spatters of oil, and the maw of a monster looming behind Jack, ready to devour. As soon as it had come, it was gone again, leaving her feeling shaken, and as if she'd been drenched in cold water.

"Now what brings you to my humble abode?" Jack asked, tying a complicated knot in the rope of the mast's sail; seemingly only paying minimal attention to Elizabeth. Still, she watched him warily.

"We came to get you."

"We? Where is your entourage? Because unless Will is hiding behind you, I see only you." He gave her a glance and then returned his attention to the knotwork.

"I...the soulless men attacked us, and Will told me to run to the Pearl, and so I did, and...well..." She felt foolish in the special way that Jack was able to make her feel, a feeling which was made worse when he uttered only "Ah."

"We came to bring you back with us. The crew and Will want you back."

"But you don't." Jack said shrewdly, giving her his uncannily intense stare.

"Does that matter?" Elizabeth asked, getting up. She had recuperated from her run across the lake bed, and standing made her feel less...picked on than when she was sitting down. After all, Jack was a small man, only few inches taller than she.

"Well since you killed me, I'd think it matter to us, eh, love? Now I'm not gonna ask why you did it, cause that's obvious to both me and you...you were nice enough to tell me that before you shackled me to my fate." Jack turned and looked her up and down with appraising eyes, before walking towards her. "But tell me...don't you feel any remorse whatsoever for having put me at the mercy of Davy Jones? Both literally and figuratively, as it were..."

"None," Elizabeth said coldly, striding away from Jack and towards the main mast. She didn't want to back up, but she did want to put a good distance between them. Jack, she noticed, was not armed: no sword or pistol was in evidence anywhere on his person. That made her feel only marginally better.

"Are you sure, love?" Jack Sparrow altered his course, following Elizabeth at a slow saunter. "You didn't come all this way for nothing."

"I came because of Will." She said, putting her back to the mast and staring away from Jack, out to the waters.

"I think you came because you feel guilty..." Jack stated, drawing level with her. Elizabeth was too proud to back up, and so remained where she was, gazing straight ahead. "Or perhaps...because you had a taste of something...and you wanted more..." He said this last softly into her ear, and Elizabeth caught the scent of rum and salt and unwashed Jack Sparrow. She said nothing, because she couldn't deny that for a while her imagination had run wild and entertained thoughts of what it would be like to dally with the Captain. It was doing so now with alarming enthusiasm.

Jack interpreted her silence for affirmation, and, grasping the jib-lines on the mast beside her head, swung round to stand in front of her. She glared at him silently, willing her imagination to knock it off, and wishing that her shirt was less...open than it was at the moment, because she could feel his eyes roaming over her torso. He brought one hand up to cup the side of her face: she brought hers up and slapped him, hard.

"I will thank you not to undress me with your eyes," she informed him in a tight voice, wishing more than ever that Will would suddenly show up and deal with both Jack and the wild fantasies that she could not get out of her head.

"What if I use my hands, then?" He straightened up and met her eyes for the first time: immediately Elizabeth sidestepped and put the mast in between the two of them. Jack did not, after all, look the same. There was a spark in his eyes that had not been there before; a dangerous glitter that the old Jack had not possessed, and so had never unsettled Elizabeth in quite the way he was doing now. The old Jack would not have said things in the tone he had just used: he would have said it in jest, not as a threat.

The old Jack would not have, also, followed Elizabeth, planted both hands on either side of her head and borne down on her until they were inches apart; hips touching his, herself flattened against the mast, still staring into his eyes. She could feel the warmth of his body, she could smell the overpowering scent of him, she could feel her own body responding on its own; she scrabbled in her belt for her knife.

"Elizabeth...I'm not dead. But I'm not alive either; I don't know what I am and frankly I don't care. But you left me on that ship after making an offer that I find myself unable to refuse." His voice was a low, purring growl, and this time Elizabeth did shiver, feeling goose bumps on her skin.

"It wasn't an offer, Jack." She injected as much steel as she could into her voice to keep it from wavering, speaking through clenched teeth, and finally got the knife free and pointed at a very vital area. "Now back away, or I think you'll find that you'll have no means or indeed desires to carry through on your threats." _Think about Will, think about Will..._

"I'm not threatening you, love," Jack said, still in that dark tone, but took two steps backwards. Elizabeth remained holding the knife. To her chagrin, she found she was breathing heavier than normal, and tried to convince herself that the flutter in her stomach was bravery in the face of danger, rather than desire and fear mixed together.

"Jack, I knew you to be a good man. You saved my life that day in Port Royal when it all began, and I had done nothing for you. You helped Will to find me on the Isla de Muerta, and even though you had your own agenda, you made sure that he did not get killed. You have helped us countless times, and even if many of them were motivated by your own needs and desires, I still believe that it shows you to be a good soul." Elizabeth shifted her grip on the knife and took a small step away from the mast: now she did not feel so cornered. "Do not prove me wrong on this. On the Black Pearl I gave you a chance to prove your own mettle. Why do you think the crew still wants you back among the living? Because I killed you. I won you their hearts by telling them you went down with your own ship, to better allow us to escape. You are a hero to them."

"And why exactly are you telling me this, love?" Jack asked, still eyeing the knife.

"Because you owe me. You can't tell them I killed you because that would make you a coward. I didn't tell them, and they think you are everything. Also, I'm telling you this because I still believe that deep down, you are a good man. Deep down, there has to be some remnant of decency." Elizabeth's voice became persuasive, convincing.

"If you believe that about me..." Jack tilted his head to one side. "You wouldn't be holding that knife."

The weapon clattered to the floor. A foolish display of confidence and bravery, Elizabeth knew, but her pride would allow her to do no less.

"Ah." Jack took a step towards her and then halted. Elizabeth watched the inner struggle: follow his natural inclinations, or live up to the noble version of himself that Elizabeth had painted, that others believed in, too. The dangerous spark in his eyes had dimmed, and hope rose in Elizabeth's spirit. She looked away, to the horizon, and then focused back on Jack. Her stomach jolted in fear: the spark was back, only now it was a blaze, and Jack was grinning at her in a most inappropriate way. She dove for the knife: Jack got there first, and kicked it hard enough to make it skitter all the way across the deck to rest in a pile of rope.

Landing hard, Elizabeth rolled on to her side and began to get up: Jack hooked his ankle around her arm and jerked her support out from under her. He was sitting beside her in a flash, hand gripping the wrist of the hand she had attempted to slap him with.

"What's happened to you?" Elizabeth demanded, struggling to sit up and failing to break the hold he had on her. "You weren't like this when you were alive!"

"Elizabeth, you can't expect me to be perfectly fine after being shoved off my mortal coil in the way I was," Jack leaned over her, his mood as dark as the sky. "I was devoured by a monster. I was not given a chance to get away. I was shown a world of...enticing possibilities before they were taken away by the very person who gave them to me in the first place. That was cruel, Elizabeth. Crueller still to make me die with thoughts of another man's fiancee in my head...in my soul..."

"The thought of Will stopped you once before: I don't see why you would cheapen him so much so that you would dare to–"

"It's never stopped me!" Jack growled, cutting her off: heat flooded Elizabeth's body and a tiny finger of fear wormed its way into her stomach. "Any loyalty to Will was gone after our conversation when we sailed away from Tortuga. I didn't know it then, but I wanted you, Elizabeth, and you've just made it worse ever since."


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest her innocence could not find grounds for it, any more. She had enticed Jack, knowing full well her power, and she had thrown her all into that last kiss –albeit because she didn't want him noticing the iron around his wrist until too late. And now...Jack Sparrow seemed more powerful and attractive than he ever had. _Think about Will, think about Will... _

She was definitely breathing heavily now, but so was he; Elizabeth noticed with some discomfort that he was not wearing his customary captain's costume, just breeches and a loose shirt like herself. She could not remember if he had been wearing that when he first appeared...she was sure he had been sporting his hat, at least. "When I gave you that last kiss on the Pearl, I was thinking about Will the entire time," she snapped: in defiance of him, in defiance of her own feelings.

"Oh, is that so?" Jack said, and as she began to reply, he darted down and pressed his mouth to hers.

Elizabeth kept her lips firmly shut against the prodding of his tongue: a hand on her breast made her gasp in surprise and Jack took the opportunity to make the kiss open-mouthed. Elizabeth, flooded with feelings and sensations that she had only experienced for Will, was temporarily overcome. She was torn: she wanted badly to continue (after all, who would know but them?), but her loyalty to Will was strong. This is wrong...the thought drifted to the surface of her heated mind, and, mustering her willpower, she bit down hard on Jack's tongue.

"Ow, bugger!" He jerked back, and Elizabeth tasted blood in her mouth. She spat it on to the deck and glared mutinously up at Jack, who had relinquished his hold on her wrist and was nursing his tongue. "That hurt!" he yelled.

"Then don't attack me," Elizabeth retorted, sitting up.

"Ahhh, but you wanted it. I could see." Jack said nastily. "You're just trying to stay true to the boy. Not out of any lack of feeling for me, but because you think it's wrong."

"Of course it's wrong!" Elizabeth wished she wasn't trying to convince herself as well. "I made a promise! I have a ring!" She thrust her hand out to Jack. "And you're a pirate, not to mention a friend of Will's...if he found out it would destroy him..." she ended miserably, feeling horrible. He'd seen her kiss Jack once. He should never have to see–or know about–anything else.

"First of all, lovey, Will is a pirate too. He sails with pirates, under pirate colours, and is certainly not against doing things that only pirates are wont to do." Jack ticked the points off on his fingers. "Seconds, a ring is only a pretty piece of metal and rock, and you shouldn't need that to stay loyal to someone. Thirds, who says Will has to find out? I won't tell him...I value my life–un-life–death...I don't even know where this is. D'you believe in purgatory?"

Elizabeth ignored his question. "Let me off this ship this instant." She demanded, getting up and walking to the rail. Jack didn't bother to follow her: there was nothing around them but water.

"There's nowhere to go, love." He sighed and leaned back on his hands.

"Then make somewhere to go!" She whirled around to see him, reclining, and was infuriated. "I need to see Will!"

"'M afraid that's not an option. You see, I think I control most of what goes on in and around the Pearl, but I'm not quite sure how. For instance, I've been wishing for that shirt to come off for the past while, but sadly it hasn't happened yet."

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, sending an amused grin stealing over Jack's features. The spark was dim in his eyes. Elizabeth wondered whether it would go away once they were out of World's End or not. "I think you're lying." She stated. "You know perfectly well how to control the events here." She picked up her knife.

Jack's eyes flickered as she stooped over, and darkened at the sight of the weapon. "And so you're going to threaten me to take you back to your darling boy? I don't think so."

There was a rush, as if she was moving at a high speed, and the world blurred a bit: when it became focused again, it was she who was shackled by one hand to the mast. Jack was still lounging on the deck, although now he was playing absentmindedly with her knife.

"You're a smart one, lass, I always knew it." He tossed the knife in the air, caught it by the hilt, and repeated the motion. "Brains enough to sink a ship." He gave her a sideways glance. Elizabeth did not appreciate the pun.

"Jack, let me go this instant or I will tell Will everything that has transpired between us! Every--"

"No!" Jack cut her off, forcefully. "No, you won't tell him," he continued in a smug voice, "because that would involve telling him that you liked it, now, wouldn't it?" He was still tossing the knife. It glinted dully in the grey light as Jack caught it, still gazing at Elizabeth. The spark was there; an expression hidden beneath an expression. He tossed the knife again. She was caught, and so very, very frustrated. Jack caught the knife and threw it to the sky. It would be so much simpler if he would just _tell_ her what he wanted! He caught it once more. She resolved to ask. It couldn't hurt…could it? He tossed the knife.

"Jack," she sighed wearily, "what do you want from me?"

He caught the knife, the thud of the metal hilt against his hand in perfect synch with the turn of his head as Jack looked into her eyes. "Revenge," he breathed, and began walking towards her. The spark blazed into a fire, and then he was in front of her.

"Jack—"

His lips were on hers again, causing her blood to pound madly through her veins: she jerked her head to the side and cried out as the knife sliced a thin line down the side of her neck. Jack had been holding it against her, and pressed the flat of it to her cheek now, forcing Elizabeth's face back to its previous position.

"What does this—revenge entail?" She gasped as he grabbed her free hand and pinned it to the mast, looking at her through a face framed by dreadlocks. He seemed nearly feral.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, if that's what you're all flustered about," he nearly _sneered_. Tiny jolts of fear had been shooting through Elizabeth: they consolidated now into an electric current of terror and, yes, lust. Her neck burned, and she could feel a tickle as blood ran from the open gash. She barely had time to contemplate his words before he was kissing her...and she let him do it.

She knew it was wrong, but instead of discouraging her passion --as it had done so many times before-- this knowledge only made it more exciting. Adrenaline coursed through her veins; she felt incredibly aware of everything: the warmth of Jack's lips, his hand on her waist, the pressure of the handcuff's metal against her skin, the feel of Jack's breath mingling with her own. His smell, his taste, his body against hers, the roughness of his beard against her face.

She was overwhelmed: their kiss as she shackled him to the Pearl had not been half so intense. Of course, she had been in control that time: now, she was subject to Jack's desires. His hand came up to feel her breast; she gasped and arched into the kiss: he thrust his tongue into her mouth and she moaned in response... and all of a sudden, something clicked in her mind. If she didn't do something now, she would be lost...it didn't matter that Will couldn't see; she was betraying him, and it would kill her from the inside every day after if she allowed this to go any further.

This was either resolved than carried out. Jack's attentions turned to her neck, kissing fiercely, then softly, and her nerves sang with the pleasure. She couldn't help the small noises that escaped her throat; as ashamed as they made her, they also gave her an idea. He was not letting up: she could not twist away; she was pinned and helpless in all but one regard.

Jack moved to her collarbone; still holding her firmly to the mast. His hand, previously on her breast, moved to the collar of her shirt, pulling it down. Elizabeth continued to gasp and pant in pleasure: she gave a series of small "oh!"s as he kissed his way from her collarbone to her breast. And then, writhing in pleasure, Jack's attentions focused on her sensitive bud, she pulled the ace from her sleeve. Jack's tongue flicked against her, and she cried out.

"Will!"


	5. Chapter 5

"Will!"

Jack immediately ceased, desisted, and backed away from Elizabeth, leaving her breathing heavily, disheveled, and staring at him with a mutinous, triumphant expression on her face. Inside, she was quaking; there was no going back now.

"Jack Sparrow, let me go. Let me go back to my fiance, so I can fight alongside him and never, ever come back to this place. You may join us if you wish: we came to rescue you, and I won't go back on my word."

"And I won't go back on mine." His voice was hoarse, and Elizabeth breathed an inner sigh of relief: he would not hurt her. "I won't tell the boy about your...indiscretion," his voice was faintly mocking.

"Thank you." She said, and it wasn't all sarcasm.

"I don't love you, Elizabeth. But I don't hate you, either. You did what you had to do; I wouldn't expect any less. Still...revenge is very sweet." He gave her a smirk. "But you seem to have turned me off of revenge --at least this kind-- for a while."

He turned to starboard. "Shall we?"

The shackle was gone from her wrist. The forest was on the horizon, and the Pearl was tilted crazily, beached high and dry where she had first found it. The faint sounds of combat reached her ears. Elizabeth took a step forwards.

"We shall."


End file.
